


The Stains of Time

by thedeathchamber



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Backstory, Character Study, Conversations, Domestic, Drama, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 03:21:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1803430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedeathchamber/pseuds/thedeathchamber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Containment is only the first step; annihilation follows.</p><p>(Tie-in with Days of Future Past.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stains of Time

_A minority has its own kind of aggression. It absolutely dares the majority to attack it. It hates the majority— not without cause [...] And the more they all hate, and the more they’re all persecuted, the nastier they become! Do you think it makes people nasty to be loved? You know it doesn't! Then why should it make them nice to be loathed? While you’re being persecuted, you hate what’s happening to you, you hate the people who are making it happen; **you’re in a world of hate**. Why, you wouldn’t recognize love if you met it! You’d suspect love! You’d think there was something behind it—some motive—some trick._

_(A Single Man_ ; Christopher Isherwood)

 

* * *

 

Erik hit the switch for the ceiling fan to whir into life, smearing dark green paint from the staircase railing on the wall.

  
He sat on the bed watching the beaded chain describe lopsided circles in the air, clicking alternately with every other rotation. His head spun with the fan’s metal edges and trying to follow the cars ambling past in the street below and itching with the whole rusty piping framework of the building.

  
The coin he’d set on the bedside table spun on itself until it was a blur, then dropped flat.

  
“I’ve got you now.” Erik murmured.

  
[…]

  
“It’s only because—because I had a little too much—” Erik lifted his head from the board to look at Charles, index and thumb raised for emphasis, gesticulating excessively over the chessboard.

  
“Raven warned me, before we left, of how very much of a lightweight you are, Charles.” Erik moved his rook to capture Charles’ knight.

  
“Ha. Don’t listen to anything Raven might tell you about me.” Charles grinned at Erik, face a little flushed. His lips appeared very pink in the dim light of the motel room they were sharing.

  
“I can see for myself she was right.”

  
“Also, don’t admit she was right, it goes straight to her head.” Charles bounced a little in place, making the springs of the bed creak and Erik’s twin bed, pushed up against it, wobble.

  
Erik’s heart beat pitter-pattered following its rhythm. “Like liquor goes to yours?”

  
“Checkmate in three!” Charles announced with a laugh, nudging Erik’s knee with his foot, nearly upsetting the board in the process. The underside of his toes was a little sticky and his toe nail scratched Erik’s calf.

  
Erik frowned at the board, holding onto Charles’ ankle. “You’re drunk.”

  
Charles scooted closer, tilting the board so that the pieces slid out of place and piled in the dent on the bedspread. Erik’s hand slid up Charles’ leg, hooking under his knee. “That was not checkmate, Charles.”

  
Charles’ breath still smelled of alcohol and was warm against his lips, moist on his chin. “I resent the accusation, Erik.” His kisses were sloppy: loose-lipped and wet over his jaw, breathing into his ear. “I would have to be very, very drunk—”

  
“—to cheat so shamelessly?” Erik cut in.

  
He cupped the back of Charles’ neck, digging into the muscle, fingers slipping down to grip his shoulder and run over his back. His other hand slid up the outside of his thigh to his lower back in order to pull him closer.

  
“You’re a very… ungraceful loser.” Charles chuckled into his ear, breathlessly, an arm flung around his neck as he rocked his hips so that Erik could feel the heat and hardness of his cock against his own.

  
“The game wasn’t over.” Erik snarled, pulling at the undershirt Charles had left on for bed and pushing him so that he would lie back.

  
Charles kept his legs parted for Erik to settle between them, bending over him to press open-mouthed kisses to his chest, dragging the flat of his tongue over his right nipple while he pulled down Charles’ pajama bottoms. He struggled with them until Charles lifted his hips and wiggled out of one leg, nearly clipping Erik in the chin with his knee.

  
The lights flickered as the metal fixtures shook.

  
“The war isn’t over.” Erik bit out, thumb stroking the underside of Charles’ cock and sliding over the head, squeezing the moisture out of the tip and smearing it over his palm as he slid back down.

  
“Erik!” Charles gasped, hands grasping clumsily at Erik’s forearms. “Stop, Erik.” _Listen to me_. Charles got hold of his wrists, panting. The brass knob from the closet door dropped to the floor with a clunk.

  
Erik’s throat burned when he swallowed. The sharp metal springs were digging into his knees.

  
 _You’re not fighting alone, Erik._ Charles tried to meet his eyes but Erik kept them averted. _But I need you to remember what it is we’re fighting for._ Erik looked at Charles and Charles let go of his wrists, hands falling limply at either side.

  
“Our people.” Erik replied.

  
Charles nodded, lips parting in a sharp breath when Erik took his hand and raised it to his lips. “Freedom.” _Yes, Erik._ He moved Charles’ hand lower, down his chest. His shirt stuck to his skin with sweat. “And justice.”

  
Charles rubbed the heel of his palm over Erik’s erection, gripped him through his boxer shorts before using both hands to tug them down to mid thigh. _Justice, not vengeance._

  
Erik’s chin dropped to his chest as Charles wrapped his hand around him, starting out slow and then raising himself on an elbow, to quicken his pace, gripping a little tighter, neck and arm muscles straining because of the forced angle.

  
 _I need this, Charles._ Erik thought at him.

  
He bit back a groan when he came into Charles’ hand, semen spilling over his fingers and splattering on his stomach.

  
 _Look at me, please._ It almost a question in his mind. Erik let out his breath with a groan low in his chest and opened his eyes.

  
 _Let me._ Erik untangled himself from the bracket of Charles’ legs and lay down beside him. Charles rolled onto his side and Erik cupped his face in his hand, thumb stroking over the smear of flush high on his cheek. _Let me._

  
Charles shook his head, tongue darting out to wet his lips when Erik trailed down to the hollow of his neck, unfurling his fingers as he moved down his chest to his cock.

  
“It won’t bring you peace, my friend.” Charles whispered brokenly.

  
Erik kissed the corner of his mouth and licked the lingering stickiness of the alcohol from his lips. He stayed close, breathing in every one of his sharp exhales. “It will bring me release.”

  
Charles gripped his shoulder, eyes wide and glistening, lips trembling. “God, Erik.” he moaned.

  
Still breathing hard, Charles’ hand slipped from his shoulder to his neck, fingertips burying in the hair on the base of his skull, thumb swiping over his ear soothingly.

  
Erik wiped his hand on his shirt before pulling it over his head. Sweat pooled low in his back and between his buttocks.

  
Charles threw a leg over him, weight settling over his ankle.

  
[…]

  
The nurse who tightened the strap over his ankle—tight enough that the edge cut into the raw pink skin—wore a surgical mask, so that he could not see her expression; when she looked at him her eyes were as reflective as mirrors in the fluorescent light.

  
It was dark beyond the circle of light and silent inside it except for Erik’s harsh breathing and the sound of cloth rubbing against cloth as the nurse moved around him, getting everything ready for Shaw.

  
His fingertips tingled with the metal just beyond his reach.

  
“ _Ist alles bereit_?” Erik’s head jerked towards the voice. His vision blurred and he tasted salt, burning in the cut on his lower lip.

  
Shaw loomed over him, haloed in multicolored light, eyes bright and crinkled as he smiled.

  
“ _Heute werden wir etwas neues probieren, Erik. Etwas lustig._ ”

  
He adjusted the light overhead and everything went white.

  
[…]

  
“Lunch time.” The voice crackled overhead.

  
Erik scratched the band of scarring around his ankle without sitting up. He flexed his toes, drumming his fingers over his stomach. He closed his eyes.

  
[…]

  
“Is it lunchtime already?”

  
Erik slid his feet from Charles’ lap onto the couch in a smooth movement, but Charles immediately went back to stroking his bare ankle, as he looked up from his book with a smile.

  
Raven smirked, hand still on the door handle. “Yeah.”

  
Charles closed the book and gave Erik’s leg a light pat, staring at Raven with an amused expression on his face.

  
Raven’s head ducked with brief laughter. “Sean cooked.” she informed them.

  
“Why? Who allowed this?” Erik ignored Raven’s suggestive wink as he sat up, smoothing the front of his turtleneck.

  
“It’s good for the children to experiment.” Charles shoved Erik’s shoes toward him.

  
“Not with my food.” Erik grunted, bending over to put them on. He caught Raven grinning out of the corner of his eye.

  
“Whatever the result we have to praise his efforts and encourage him to try again.”

  
Erik shook his head at Charles. “You’ve been reading too much of this nonsense.” He pointed at the book Charles had been studying, one of several parenting manuals he’d picked up—despite Erik’s protests—at a bookstore while they were on the road.

  
“There’s nothing wrong with being informed.” Charles replied, making Raven roll her eyes as they made their way to the kitchen. _Our children are entirely unique... everything is helpful._

  
 _Our children._ Erik scoffed, but Charles only smiled at him. Erik pushed him along with a hand on the low of his back.

  
“It smells like it might be edible.” Raven commented.

  
“That’s the spirit.” Charles said cheerfully.

  
“Hurry up, it’s getting cold!” Sean barked at them as soon as they stepped into the kitchen.

  
“Maybe it will improve the flavor.” Alex groused, beating a rhythm with the handle of his fork on the table.

  
“You haven’t even tried it yet.” Hank said, fumbling with the cutlery.

  
“Yeah, don’t be a dick, Alex.”  

  
“Language.” Charles put in mildly, taking a seat.

  
“Don’t be _childish_.” Raven amended. Alex’s snigger turned into a howl when Raven pinched his forearm.  

  
 _Still think we don’t need any help?_

  
_They’re a bunch of brats, I’ll admit._ Erik’s upper lip curled and Charles didn’t quite manage to contain a grin before turning to Sean. “Let’s eat then, shall we?”

  
Sean waited until everyone was seated to make a show of putting on the oven mitts and bringing forth a large fountain of some form of casserole. “My culinary masterpiece.” he announced.

  
“Go on then.” Moira prompted. She shrugged when they all stared at her. “I’m hungry.”

  
Sean dished out excessive portions of the casserole on everyone’s plates and sat down, hands together as though he were about to say grace. “Well?” he prompted, looking at each in turn.

  
Charles and Moira were the first to try it. Moira hummed thoughtfully as she chewed. Alex looked at her with his eyebrows raised.

  
“It’s... it’s fine. Good.” she said, giving Sean a smile.

  
Charles nodded. “It’s quite good, yes. Well done, Sean.”

  
Sean’s shoulders dropped as he relaxed. “It’s good.” he told Alex.

  
“Right.” Alex glanced at Erik.

  
 _Erik. Go on._

  
With a sigh Erik raised the fork to his mouth. He chewed slowly. The metal in the kitchen made his chest feel warm and his whole body seem to thrum.

  
[…]

  
The smell the ocean was still discernible under the stench of gasoline and burnt rubber. He stretched out his legs, scraping the heel of his palms on the sand scattered on the floor of the container, which rocked rhythmically, the movement noticeable now that they were nearing land.

  
A distant shout in unintelligible French spurred him into action. He raised himself to a crouch, one hand splayed on the wall for balance, fingertips rubbing against the grain of the metal, building static down to the soles of his feet.

  
The blare of a siren signaled the imminent arrival of the freight ship to port.

  
Erik’s arms shook as he climbed out of the crate. He took a deep breath that stung the inside of his nose, scratching grime from the back of his neck as he looked out at the gray line of the approaching coast.  “ _Sie können nicht für immer laufen_.”

  
[…]

  
“Hm?” Charles rubbed his fingers over the stubble on Erik’s chin, letting them drag over his lips. “You mutter in your sleep.” he explained, grinning, after Erik bit the tip of his finger.

  
“ _Auf Deutsch?_ ” Erik asked, pulling Charles’ hand away from his face.

  
Charles folded his pillow under his head. “Usually.” He smoothed a hand down Erik’s upper arm. “I think. It’s not quite intelligible, really.”

  
Erik stared at him. An early morning bird chirped outside the window.

  
 _Erik, I’m not listening in while you’re sleeping._

  
“I couldn’t tell if you were.” Erik said, rolling away from Charles. He heard Charles’ hand drop onto the mattress and his slow exhalation.

  
“No, I suppose not.” The mattress dipped when Charles shifted a little closer to Erik. _You’ll have to trust me on this, my friend._

  
The tightness in Erik’s jaw loosened. “You’ve woken me with your snoring often enough.” He turned to face Charles again, found him smiling and closer now, enough to see a track of dry saliva in the corner of his mouth. Erik licked his thumb and swiped it over his chin to make Charles wrinkle his nose even as he laughed.

  
“Is that so? Raven used to go on about it, but it’s Raven so I wasn’t sure if I should believe her or not.”

  
“You’ll have to trust me on this, my friend.” Erik deadpanned.

  
Charles wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before kissing him, hand slipping briefly against the sheet gathered at his waist before settling over the jut of his hip. _I do. I trust you._

  
Erik turned his face, his stubbled jaw rough against Charles’ cheek. “I haven’t changed my mind, Charles.” _And I’m not going to._

  
Charles twisted his fingers into the sheet, knuckles digging into Erik’s side. “What comes after? After you’ve exacted your revenge, what then?”

  
Erik shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

  
Charles’ face crumpled for a brief moment. When he looked up at Erik again he made an effort to smile, smoothing the light hair on Erik’s forearm. “Raven was the first mutant I ever met. But after her... there was nothing. A fleeting impression, here and there, gone before I could get close enough to know for sure.” He tickled the soft skin of the crook of his elbow and brushed over the ink code with a reverent touch.

  
Erik stiffened. “You knew there had to be more of our kind.”

  
“Yes, of course. But only theoretically.” Charles held his wrist in a limp grip. “I went along with the CIA because I knew they would be there— the mutants I’d seen in Moira’s mind— and I wanted to see for myself.”

  
“Did it live up to your expectations?” Erik asked, voice bitter.

  
“Well, I wasn’t expecting you.” Charles explored his hand with the tip of his fingers: the smooth skin in the dip between the knuckles and the wrinkled one over each joint. _You were beyond anything I had ever imagined, Erik._ “And believe me, I’d spent a lot of time thinking about it: all the possibilities of mutation... all those gifted people I had never met.”

  
Erik looked down at their hands. “Now you can find them. With Cerebro. When this is over... you can bring our kind together.”

  
Charles waited until Erik looked up. “We could.” He leaned forward and tentatively brushed his lips against Erik’s, cupping the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair. _I want you by my side, Erik._

  
Erik hid his face against the side of Charles’ neck. _I don’t want to leave you, Charles._

  
Charles’ exhalation was tremulous and his heart was racing; Erik felt the vibration under the thin skin of his throat with his lips.

  
[...]

  
He leaned against the wall, pressed the palm of each hand and the pad of every finger against the metal surface. His whole body was quivering.

  
Erik had been underground for too long. The onslaught of warmth and the sheer pleasure of being around metal again made his breath short. He caught a blurred reflection of the boy in the elevator wall, smile too wide and too smug. Erik tried to regain his sense of direction, spread his stance to counter the upward movement because his head was still rushing forward.

  
When it stopped, Erik heard rain for as long as the doors took to open. Then there was metal and the smell of actual food... and Charles.

  
“Charles?” Erik blurted, disbelieving.

  
He wasn’t expecting Charles to hit him. Erik stumbled back and hit the ground in delayed time: the end of the fall that had started when the glass shattered above him.

[...]

  
Erik couldn’t stop staring at Charles.

  
They sat in the back of the car together, squeezed in next to the the boy because there was no time to argue about seating arrangements when they left the Pentagon. Erik could feel how tense Charles was beside him, staring straight ahead with his mouth pursed and his nostrils flaring.

  
 _Charles._ He tried. _Charles. What’s happening? Why are you here?_ There was no reaction. _Charles?_ Hank took a curve too fast so that they all slid to one side. Peter cackled and Charles recoiled as soon as the car righted itself, though their knees still knocked together and their shoulders were pressed tight.

  
Erik glanced out the window as they turned into a suburban neighborhood. _I’ve missed you, old friend._

  
There was silence.

  
Silence in the car once they dropped the boy off at his house and silence while they drove to the airfield. Hank and the other man bickered constantly but it was background noise, meaningless. Erik put his hand on the damp impression Charles had left beside him in the car seat and put his head back. He rattled and revolved with every piece of metal that made up the car until they came to a stop.

  
He stepped out of the car into sunlight and stood next to it with his hand on the heated metal and the breeze in his hair until Charles peeled him away with a tight grip on his elbow.

  
Erik caught his furtive glance. When Charles turned to leave Erik grabbed his arm and pulled him back so that they stood toe to toe.

  
“Have you nothing to say to me?” he challenged.

  
Charles’ mouth twisted. “ _Don’t._ ” He wrenched himself free of Erik’s grip. “Don’t you dare, Erik.”

  
“We’re on a time sensitive mission here, but you two just take your _sweet_ time.” Logan growled, stalking past them.

  
Erik undressed in the small bathroom on the plane after take-off. He automatically folded the white suit into a neat square, with the prisoner number badge at the top: 0001.

  
He hit his elbow against the door when he ripped it off, the string cutting into his fingers before snapping.

  
“Get moving, bud, we need to talk.” The fist pounding on the door took a moment to register.

  
Erik balled up the piece of fabric and thrust it into the pocket of his jacket.

  
[...]

  
The stiff piece of cloth was worn down in a few hours. He was restless and tense; unable to relax after what he had heard, and further on edge because of Logan’s snoring. He stretched his legs under the table, careful to make the movement smooth so as not to wake Charles, who slept slumped in his seat, with his chin on his chest and the hand Erik could see from his position balled into a fist.

  
 _You really can’t hear me, Charles?_

  
The chess board sat before them but Charles had put the pieces away after they had been scattered by a spot of turbulence before they could finish the game.

  
Erik alternated watching him sleep with looking out the window at the growing dusk.

  
[...]

  
The night was black. He heard and felt the rush of air when a bat swooped by but he couldn’t make out anything at a distance farther than a foot. Erik moved around by drawing out the shape and position of the objects around him by the response of the metal.

  
The pain in the back of his head flared when he made a controlled drop from the height of the wall into the station. There was strong, harsh light overhead and a throng of people working. He picked up a cap that someone had abandoned on a wooden crate and kept his head down as he walked.

  
“We’re almost ready to go!”

  
The shout confirmed what Erik could feel in the throb of blood in the soles of his feet: the train was starting up and getting ready to leave.

  
Erik drew in breath through bared teeth when he saw the Trask logo on the freight wagons.

  
[...]

  
The swastika on the arm band of the Nazi uniform was smudged when Erik ran his finger over the newspaper, still warm and damp from the press. Raven shook her disguise and the rain from her hair before taking a seat in the armchair in front of him.

  
“What’s so important it couldn’t wait till the rain stopped? Or sunrise?”

  
Erik ignored her.

  
“Erik,” Raven stretched over the coffee table to tap his knee. “I think we should leave the country. Now. Today preferably.”

  
He looked up from the newspaper, smoothed it flat on the table in front of him for the third time. He smeared ink on the white coffee mug when he raised it to his lips. It was lukewarm and bitter.

  
“They’re still following us.” Raven sat back. She wrapped a finger around a loose thread in the arm chair and snapped it.  “I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so worried. I don’t know how long we can keep this up.”

  
“The hunt is over. I don’t intend to keep running.”

  
Raven went still. “They know what you can do. It’s only a matter of time before they find a way around it.”

  
“Look at this.” Erik said abruptly. He turned the newspaper so that Raven could read it: _Trial of 22 Starts_.

  
“Erik...” Raven breathed.

  
“This is what is called justice.” In the kitchen the cutlery rattled in the drawer. “Eight thousand men commit murder and walk. And a mock trial of a score of them is supposed to stand for justice.”

  
Raven glanced down at the newspaper. “Most of them were just following orders... The Nazi hierarchy was convicted after the war.”

  
The radiator whined as the metal twisted. “I’ve been at the mercy of men following orders... and they deserve none. The world is so quick to make excuses. Anything to free them from the responsibility of their actions. Of their guilt.”

  
“There wouldn’t be anyone left if they convicted everyone who was involved.” Raven said with a humorless laugh.

  
“So be it.”

  
Raven glanced at the sputtering radiator and then looked back at Erik. “It will never be enough, Erik. It doesn’t matter how many people are punished.. It won’t bring the dead back... It won’t change the past.” Her voice lowered almost to a whisper. “It won’t make it stop hurting.”

  
“This isn’t about the past anymore, Raven. It’s about the future. Our future.” Erik leaned forward, spilled the coffee over his hand and the newspaper as he set the cup down too hard. “Do you think it’s over? It’s not. This is how it starts. Blaming the assassination of the president on me is just an excuse to take preventive measures. Containment is only the first step; annihilation follows. Do you think it will be long before the systematic persecution of our people begins?”

  
Raven took a deep breath. “What do you want me to do?”

  
“You know what you have to do.”

  
She shook her head. “I can’t do this without you.”

  
“You can do anything, Raven. When will you realize this?”

  
Raven raised her leg on the chair and rested her head on her knee. “I can’t have the future hanging on me, Erik. I can’t.”

  
Erik walked over to the window. He peered between the shutters and striped sunlight flickered into the room. “Charles walked away from his responsibility. To serve justice. To protect our fellow mutants. That was out intent. He left us to shoulder that burden alone.” He turned back to look at her. “Why are you here, Mystique?”

  
Raven stared at nothing for a moment. Her toes curled around the edge of the cushioned seat. “Mutant... and proud.” she said, raising her chin as she looked at Erik in the eye.

  
Erik nodded. “Never again at the mercy of humanity. We make our own history now.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> The last section is referring to the Frankfurt-Auschwitz Trials (1963-67). President Kennedy was assassinated in November 1963 and the trials began in December. I'm working under the premise that Erik was not immediately apprehended. 
> 
> Translation:
> 
> -For people who don't speak German (and I only speak a little, so it might not be quite right?): 
> 
> Is everything ready? / We're going to try something new today, Erik. Something fun. / He can't run forever. /In German?
> 
> Title from Nine Inch Nails/Johnny Cash's song Hurt, which now seems oddly appropriate for Erik and Charles. But I am very obsessed at the moment, so it may be just that.


End file.
